The Way Back
by Everlark46
Summary: Katniss and Peeta's journey back to a normal life after the games. I love Suzanne Collins but I felt this was missing for me and many others. Enjoy.
1. 1 Over the edge

The night I tell Peeta I love him I think everything is going to fall into place around us.

He will move in permanently, help me with the dishes and sit at the end of the table for dinner every night, telling me about his day, how far the bakery is in construction and, at the very end of the day when the nights are cold, he'll tell me how much he loves me back.

But of course our journey back into normalcy isn't going to be a smooth one.

The very next day he has an attack.

His worst one for a long while, lasting over an hour and scaring me so much I have to run for Haymitch two doors down.

"What is it sweetheart?" He asks opening the door, the smell of dirty laundry and stale alcohol leaking out from behind his shaggy, unshaven form.

"It's Peeta." I manage between heavy breaths, trying desperately to hold back sobs that will send me to the ground. "He's had an episode and he just won't calm down… I don't know what to do. He hates me." As the last words leave my mouth I put my head in my hands, sinking down to my knees and rocking back and forth on Haymitch's porch.

"Come on now. Get up." He says in a sympathetic tone, bending down and patting my back, putting his hands on my shoulders and forcing me stand. "You know full well that ain't Peeta in there. That ain't the boy that loves you but he's in there fighting to get back to you, sweetheart. You need to do the same. You need to fight for him."

He looks me sternly in the eye as he says this, the steely grey of them a mirror of my own and I set myself right, raising my chin to look at him properly.

Peeta will not fight alone.

And although sending me back into a house with an emotionally unstable Victor who could break me in half if I don't think quick enough may not be the best idea for anyone else I'll do it, after all quick thinking is my specialty and I have to fight with Peeta, whether I have the strength right now or not.

"Thanks. "I nod curtly at him as he grabs a soiled coat from his coat stand and steps out his door, locking it behind him and following me down the path to our home, a gaggle of geese following behind him, not bothered by his efforts to shoo them away.

I instruct Haymitch to wait outside as I make my way back into the house, opening the back door with no attempt at quiet.

Sneaking up on him will only drive him further over the edge and make it harder for me to pull him back to me again.

"Peeta?" I call as I close the back door, not turning to lock it, giving him the chance to sneak up on me and do some damage before I have even tried to get him back.

"Mutt?" He calls back sarcastically from the living room. My heart sinks lower into my chest as the last shred of hope that he had pulled himself free on his own is destroyed, Peeta is too kind to be so cruelly sarcastic.

"No Peeta, its Katniss." I say firmly as I walk into the lounge where he sits, slumped down in the red armchair we brought last week, smirking at me, blonde curls askew as if he has been pulling at them and his normally beautiful, clear blue eyes a cold, empty black.

"Gone to get Haymitch did you? You idiotic little bitch? Scared of me? I can see it you're fucking terrified. You ugly mutt!" He screams curses as I whimper in the corner of the room by the door, building the strength I need to fight back against the force holding the boy with the bread.

"You're really fucking ugly. You know that?" He asks me, leaning forward, placing his hands on his knees, that vile grin still on his face, distorting his boyish features into something twisted unnatural. "All those scars, a waste really. You could have been so pretty. Though I guess that's your problem."

This stings and he knows it. My scars are my biggest insecurity and Peeta has had to tell me nearly on a nightly basis that they are beautiful, chastising me when I stare admiringly at his, seeing the beauty in them but not my own .

"I know that Peeta but you don't. You don't like it when I hide my scars. You love them." I gulp this is the first time I have said this during one of his attacks and I don't know how it's going to go over, so I take a step forward. "You love me and … I love you. So please come back. Just come back to me."

By the way the tears are beginning to stream down his face I can tell my speech helped him, his pupils shrinking and lightening to almost normality.

"You love me?" He asks looking at me through his thick fringe of blonde eyelashes.

I move slowly toward him, so as not to startle him back into whatever state he was in and lean down so my face is level with his.

"I guess I have only told you once but yes Peeta, I love you." The tears begin to streak down my face again as I add-"I love you so much"

I barely get the last words out before his lips are on mine; furiously claiming them, cradling my cheeks in his huge, rough hands.

We break away from each other, out of breath, me having somehow ended up on his lap, smiling at one another, his hands still on my cheeks, his eyes as bright as a blue summer's day as he says "I love you too Katniss."

For the first time in a long time I say. "Will you stay with me?"

"Always."


	2. 2 His hope

**So this is my take on the first time Katniss and Peeta did … it. I wanted it to be bittersweet and happy and I think that I was I have created. Sorry it's so short. Thank you for all the lovely reviews. **

Chapter 2/ into the woods

The next morning, lying in Peeta's arms, our legs tangled together and his blonde curls tousled and sticking out I get to thinking about the woods and how much I miss the beautiful, blissful freedom of the grass beneath my feet, the familiar smell of pine and the practiced way my steps lighten to a hunters tread.

The fact that I haven't been able to set foot into the woods in the three months I have been home bugs me on a daily basis but this morning I can't get it off my mind, even as I remove myself from bed and peel of my clothes from last night, not having had a chance to change them since the day before and with the intention of taking a long, steamy shower but I catch sight of myself in the mirror on the interior of my wardrobe door, instinctively taking a finger and tracing my largest scar down the length of my neck, then my stomach, to my hip and stopping just below my underwear at my thigh. The huge mismatched piece of uneven skin that makes me want to retch as I see Peeta in the mirror's surface, in the midst of removing his own shirt making his way toward me from the bed, struggling to get to his footing as he does first thing in the morning, his prosthetic probably rubbing him uncomfortably.

'What are you doing?' I whisper, unable to tear my eyes away from him, his chest as much an odd, warped war zone as mine yet so much more beautiful than my own.

'Helping.' He replies simply, reaching his arm out to me as he comes close enough to touch, my small, rough hands fitting naturally into his large, tough ones, fitting together like pieces of a peculiar puzzle.

I don't take my eyes from our hands as our fingers twist together until they are joined and I nearly don't notice a finger from his other hand tracing the same scar I was, but instead of barley touching it with disgust the way I was his touch isn't light or apprehensive, it is sure and strong and says all the things even he doesn't know how to express with his words.

He makes his way up to the lines on my neck and ends with the palm of his hand wrapped around my face, tenderly pushing my chin up so my eyes meet his, making it impossible for me to blink away the tears that have welled up in my eyes, tears of hurt and embarrassment and love for him. This man, my boy with the bread, who loves me despite my scars.

I smile at him as I put my hand on his stomach and trace his scars, my heart fluttering as he smiles back at me, his dimples larger than life up close.

But my happiness soon turns to confusion as he removes his hands from my face and turns me once again to face the dreaded mirror, Peeta standing behind me, his beautiful face and some of his shoulders appearing clearly over my own petite figure, the golden skin of his sculpted chest contrasting against the olive tones of my own, which along with his light hair marks everything against us as completely different except the scars.

The thick, red scars that tie us to one another mark on us physically what we've been through.

A physical representation of our story.

A story of loss, of hurt but of love as well.

We continue to stand there in perfect stillness for another five minutes, each observing the other until Peeta finally speaks.

'Do you see it now? That we're the same? Two pieces of one puzzle.'

'Two pieces of one messed up puzzle.' I smile at him in the mirror and his small smile widens until it becomes a laugh that takes me over as soon as it does him, leaving us both in a fit of laughter as we again turn to face each other, only stopping when his forehead come to rest against my own, the feeling of panic and embarrassment that usually follows me like a shadow finally leaving as I step into the rays of the sun.

Peeta's sun, his warmth, his happiness.

His hope.

The hope that from the day I saw him has kept me going, surviving and living until this moment.

This moment right now.

A moment of such happiness I let go and press my lips savagely to his, pulling away quickly to look into his eyes one last time before I yank him into the shower with me, his laughter still ringing like a bell.


End file.
